


Co-Dependency

by InkBlotSpotShot



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Dynamic Duo, Love/Hate Relationship, M/M, Made up words, Prologue, Raccoon Science, Sci-Fi, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-07-09 01:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkBlotSpotShot/pseuds/InkBlotSpotShot
Summary: Rocket and Quill are separated from their fellow Guardians. Forced to deal with one another on the journey, will their friendship grow, shrivel, or evolve into something else entirely? This one is going to be a slow burn. How slow? Dunno yet, but I'll warn you all in advance when I decide to get spicy.





	1. Another Troubled Moon

Peter felt the table give as he crashed through it, the shattering sound of glass along with the sharp, biting cuts against the back of his head and cheek increasing the pain when he hit the floor. Bright, throbbing lights assaulted his squinted gaze, while deafening bass tones rippled through the outer lining of his skull. A pained groan slithered from his throat, speaking for every pained part of his body that joined together in mob protest.

“You’re dead, toner!” Somehow, that exclamation of impending violence managed to pierce through the booming beats of the building. Lifting his head up, Peter Quill shook the haze from his eyes and readjusted his vision, only to find the entirety of it filled with two dark tentacles rushing towards him! A brief breeze washed over him, and it would have been pleasant under different circumstances, but when the spongy tendril wrapped around his body gave a firm squeeze, there was only more pain.

“Dude….you ripped my jacket! NNNNGH!” another squeeze followed with the intent to shut him up. “This is like, my favorite jacket, asshole!” The flashing lights swirled in front of him, the rush of more wind and the whirlpool of color momentarily disorienting before he hit the wall. Nearby patrons scattered; a cavalcade of species and races, from insectoids on two legs, to scaly quadrupeds with six sets of eyes, and every possibility in between. Quill felt like a rib was broken…or three. Pushing himself up off the ground again, a sudden pressure crashed into the side of his head, mashing his face into the metallic floor. Thick, pungent metals left their bitter taste on his tongue, the cloven hoof applying pressure to his skull guaranteeing the flavor lingered.

Towering above him was a hulking, slender creature. Two thick, suction-cupped tentacles coated in ebony scales were attached to either side of a bulky, robotic frame. A darkened, coiled set of thick wires curved downwards, forming the body of the alien creature, ending at the meaty bottom half of the abdomen. Dark scaled legs, rippling with thick tendons, continued to apply pressure to his head. Atop it all sat a cephalopods’ shape, a thick beard of tentacles draped beneath a water tank, wrapped about the back of that conical cranium with two translucent tubes. Glowing liquid ran through the tubes, roiling and bubbling in the tank as the creature drew a breath, before being sent back through the tubes to be filtered through again and again.

“I want my stolen units back! Either you hand them over, or I pick them off your corpse!” the creature’s voice bubbled angrily into his ear, akin to that of a roiling sea brine. The tentacle tightened about Peter’s body, crushing his arms into his ribs and squeezing the breath from his lungs, forcing it out of the human’s mouth in gasping heaves.

“Sorry….no….refunds….” Quill strained to get the words out, a cocky smile blooming at the corners of his mouth, even as his face began to change from its normal white to a sickening red.

The creature’s face rippled with rage, its aqua-tank bubbling up again as the tentacles on its face wiggled and lashed out. “No one steals from me! Nobody! Nobo—“

An electrical sizzle bristled the surrounding air, right as the alien’s head burst into a bubble of blue and purple goo! With the central nervous system destroyed, the tentacle released Peter instantly, dropping him down to the floor, where he gasped like a landlocked fish, hand clutched at his throat. Patrons screamed and vacated the area posthaste, the music died, and a booming laugh rocketed through the room.

“Hahahahaha! Who wants calamari?!” Rocket Raccoon laughed out, a gun far too large for a creature of his size to be carrying cradled expertly atop his shoulder. Having scared everyone off with a casual act of first degree murder, no one was around to respond to him; even the music had cut out.  
“What….nobody? Really?” Rolling his deep brown eyes, the raccoon gave the fresh corpse a solid kick, pressing down a button hidden near the trigger of his gun to collapse the multi-use cannon. He grabbed what appeared to be a tiny, black flashlight from his jumpsuit pocket, and flicked a switch, causing a concentrated, red laser to pop out. “I’m just gonna steal this…..and this….aaaaaand **all** of these….” he joyfully hummed, slicing off one of the alien’s tentacles at the shoulder, and the breathing apparatus still lodged in a chunk of mangled flesh. He grabbed up all the face tentacles that survived the explosion, and shoveled them all into the square pack attached to his back. Brimming with stolen goodies, he finally turned to look at Quill. “You’re welcome.”

“…..Thanks.” Peter groaned, nursing his cracked ribs while trying to get up off of his knees, coughing up a tiny splatter of blood into his hand. “You got any of those syringes in there?”

“Yeah, yeah, wasting my valuable tech on you, you giant, blubbering baby.” Rocket responded with a mumble, not even having to look into his pack to locate exactly what Quill was asking him for. It was a thick metal tube, a glass window flooded with a dark orange liquid that began to hum and glow as Rocket gave it a quick shake. Popping off one end of the tube, a thin needle was revealed, one that easily passed through the outmost layer of Star Lord’s skin as Rocket jammed it into the side of the humie’s neck and injected the contents.

An instant rush of relief washed throughout Quill’s body; an icy cool wind that obliterated all of his tension. Cracks in his bones mended in milliseconds, cuts closed up, and the pounding in his head left for a speedy vacation. Having to deal with that pinching sensation was more than worth the benefits he reaped afterwards. “I had that handled you know.” Patching up his pride, Peter wiped the shards of glass off the front of his jacket, some of them having lodged in the leather to mimic the appearance of a crystal chandelier back on Earth.

Rocket was already walking towards the entrance to the club, as it and the exit were one and the same. He had zero quarrels with walking out the front door of a crime scene he had just created. “Sure you did Quill, I just wanted an excuse to murder someone.” Thick indignation drooled off his tone as they both walked out onto the abandoned street together, dying, flickering lights casting nearby alleyways in temporary illumination.

“Since when do you need an excuse to murder anyone?”

Both of the Guardian’s ears twitched, one of those small, animalistic hands gripping the front strap of his pack. Clearly, the question annoyed him. “Fracking asshole….” Rocket muttered underneath his breath. “How about a thank you for saving your sorry butt, **again?** This is, what, the fifth time in the past month I’ve had to swoop in and get you out of your own mess? Grow up, be a man, take care of your own crap!”

Peter seemed less interested in the words pouring out of Rocket’s mouth, and more interested in checking around for the eventual arrival of the local authorities. Towing the line between heroes and outlaws had proven difficult for him and the Guardians, as sometimes the best way to be a hero was to not be a hero at all. Underhanded tactics had managed to save their hides and pull the galaxy out of a rough spot more times than he had tracks on his Zune, which was at least seventy-five hundred songs. Part of him wanted to be in the limelight, to be given parades and have statues crafted in his honor, but another part of him just wanted to take the money and spend it all in bars, getting hammered and picking up whatever piece of hot alien tail caught his eye. A blissful memory of a night he spent with three Kree women at once began to play in his head….

Then a small, crushed can hit him straight in the face, knocking the image right out of him.

“Don’t ignore me, Star Dick!”

“Damn it Rocket, what was that?! A-A can? Who the hell throws a can?”

“Me! When you piss me off!”

Fuming, Quill crouched down, grabbed the can, then threw it at the back of Rocket’s head, the raccoon flinching as the piece of metal bounced off his fuzzy dome and landed on the street. “ **You** piss **me** off, you stupid raccoon!”

“I’m stupid?! You couldn’t live without all the tech I’ve built for your sorry, saggy butt over the years, while you just sat around and ate sandwiches! At least I can come up with an insult that makes sense.”

“It’s not supposed to make sense you idiot, it’s meant to piss you off!”

“Well then you’ve succeeded!”

Their bickering continued all the way back to the ship, a beaten down cruiser that was desperately in need of a paint job. Old shades of decaying red, riddled with ill patches of the exposed hull beneath, dotted the spacecraft. A cloudy, five-models-old window was the only view of the outside, a crudely scrubbed space made up so Quill could at least fly the rust bucket. Rocket clamored up inside via the entry ramp, slamming his pack onto the first table he could find, which just happened to be the kitchen table. Without him, the ship would’ve broken apart a long time ago, which was just another thing that Quill should be thanking him for, but never did!

Not wanting to wait around for a mob of angry squid people to swarm his ship, Quill’s ass landed firmly in the captain’s chair, the bridge just a short skip and hop from the closing entry bridge. Both engines sputtered as they flared to life, the deafening roar scattered nearby garbage and loose grass, charring some of the immediate foliage they had parked atop of. That black horizon called out to him, Quill guiding the ship towards the surrounding atmosphere.

“Hey, what are you doing in my chair?” Rocket’s voice called out over that rattle of the engine, suddenly interested in what Star Lord was doing.

A lengthy, exasperated sigh pushed its way out of Quill’s throat, powered on his his lungs and chest. “First of all, this has never been your chair. Second, I’m getting us off this planet before **you** ruin all the good reputation that I’ve been building up with the Nova Corps! Third, you’re not leaving those oozing body parts laying around my ship, so go shove them in your room or something before they stink up the place.”

“Get outta my chair Quill, we both know I’m a much better pilot.” The insult was followed up by a backhanded swat to the arm, Rocket completely ignoring everything that was just said and throwing it out the window of conversation.

“You touch me again, and I’m gonna punt you like a football.”

Rocket’s ears flicked in confusion, his brow lowering, “What’s a football?”

Pleased, and equally annoyed at the raccoon’s lack of Earth knowledge, Quill twisted his body in the captain’s chair to bend right down into the animal’s face. “It’s a skinned animal tied around a rock and kicked around **for fun**.” The final two words carried a murmur of malice in them. “So it’s either that, or what we normally do to raccoons, which is **TURNING THEM INTO HATS!** That’s right, I could **wear you** ….”

“QUILL!”

***KRAKOOM!!!***

The entire ship rattled, as if housed in the center of an earthquake, Rocket stumbling towards the controls and ramming his shoulder into them, as Quill desperately pulled back on the sticks. The human’s grip shook violently, flexing his hardest to maintain his grip and steer the ship in the right direction. Harsh red light flooded the entire interior of the ship, flashing periodically to envelop them both in pitch blackness, the only other source of light coming from the violet colored lightning tearing through space.

Star Lord’s eyes slowly widened, a massive tear in space burning through the fabric of existence, wreathed in the scorching blasts of lightning igniting the open void. “SHIT!” A black hole had opened up, an inescapable vacuum dragging their ship ever closer to oblivion. Quill’s teeth ground together as he yanked back as hard as he could, yet all of his strength wasn’t enough to steer them clear of the gaping vortex.

“Quill!” Rocket hollered out, a raking pain scraping down his throat. He was on the floor, scrambling to try and open an iron contraption, akin to that of a bear trap but lacking the teeth. Vigorously punching at his own contraption, multiple blue panels sparked to life, a powerful beam erupting from the center piece.

“I’m not getting in that thing Rocket! I can do this!” The Infamous Star Lord had managed to slip his way out of worse jams in the past, confidence brimming throughout his body, mingling with a spraying of panic and fear. Failure wasn’t an option, it never was. The black hole grew larger and larger, their rusty ship creaking and bending as the suction began stripping panels off the hull.

“Would you rather lose some body parts, or would you rather be disintegrated?!” Keeping communication loud enough to properly work over the roar of the storm was harrowing, voices rapidly approaching a raw state as each sentence screamed itself into existence.

With a furious, aggravated slam of the ship controls, Star Lord pushed himself out of his seat and charged straight for the floored device, his jet boots slamming against the floor. Stumbling to a stop in front of the glowing, blue pillar, he tapped just behind his ear to cause his helmet to materialize over his face. “If I end up in some hellhole, I’m gonna kill you, you stupid raccoon!”

“DON’T CALL ME A RACCOON!!!!”

***KRAKOOM!!!!***


	2. Galactic Credibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Rocket find themselves thrust into unfamiliar territory.

Water….Rushing water….Low rumblings of a churning, crashing watery plummet.

 _“…..just roll with it, baby…_  
_Come on and just roll with it, baby..._  
_You and me, roll with it, baby…_  
_Hang on and just roll with it, baby, hey…”_

Bright, piercing rays kept the human’s eyes clenched shut, even as his consciousness awoke from the dislocation it had experienced. A distant melody tickling mainly in his ears, cool moisture running against his knees, the cooking of his back through the leather he donned. Star Lord cracked an eye open, darkened, smooth rock obstructing his horizons. Beneath his hands, the rock was cool, tempered by an even mixture of blazing sun and running water. His walkman sat upon its back, the cassette inside spinning as a male voice vocalized, the transmission blasting through the padded buds of his headphones.

 _“Now there’ll be a day you’ll get there, baby…_  
_You’ll hear the music play, you’ll dance, baby…_  
_You’ll leave bad times way behind…_  
_Nothing but good times on your mind…_  
_You can do it, roll with it, bab—“_

Walkman in hand, Quill latched the audio playback device onto his belt, pressing it firmly along the left side of his zipper to guarantee comfort and accessibility. Monolithic structures created a colossal gap between the wall of clouds up above and the void below. Nausea and vertigo struck as he peeked his gaze over the edge, only to witness a steamy abyss, the crashing static of water roaring in his eardrums. Tilting his head backwards, Peter tapped the thrusters of his jet boots together as one would knock dirt some their soles, and shot straight into the air. Gales assaulted his attire and face, pressure building against his facial helmet as the flaps of his jacket beat angrily against his jaw and neck; but as he breached the sea of clouds above him, all noise ceased.

Three moons marked the distant sky, aimed like a telescope at the planet below them. The largest, and closest, moon was so intimate that the craters and cracks would be seen with a naked eye. A middle moon framed the first and last moons together, a twin to the first. The final moon had lost its circular appearance, seventy-five percent of its mass having been obliterated, leaving the rock stuck in the shape of a crescent. Abrasive orange skies kept the moons aloft, framing the endless expanse of water vapor that concealed the contents of the planet below.

“Aaaaaaand, taking a picture.” With a tap of the control unit housed behind his right ear, the lens of his helmet shuttered, a digital image being stored for later viewing. “Okay….where the hell is Rocket?”

***BOOM!!!***

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!” Beneath the clouds, explosive blue lights crackled through the pure white tint, dotting the space below Peter as they traveled beyond him. Each light built up part of a traveling tendril, akin to an air serpent existing within the realm of God, until a familiar figure tore through the fabric of air and spiraled into the open. Ball after ball of condensed, dangerously charged electricity torpedoed from the gun held within Rocket’s paws, vanishing back beneath the veil that separated the earth and the sky. Mossy, cragged fingers metamorphosed fluff into ghostly whips, unabated by the sky’s heated power as they cut through the air. With an earth-rending swipe, those earthen fingers scraped against the orange backdrop.

***WHAP!!!***

“Rocket!” Peter shot through the sky, jet boots functioning at full power. The targeting reticles in his helmet locked onto the falling raccoon; brain activity low, heart rate low, aero-rig spitting smoke. Roaring winds battered at his body, causing the collar of his leather jacket to chaotically seizure as he shot straight towards his fellow Guardian. Rocket shot down through the clouds before Quill could reach him in time, feeding the rising panic currently pounding in the human’s chest. The defining crash of water assaulted his ears the instant he breached through the clouds, but it was unable to distract him as his gaze instantly locked on Rocket, thanks to his targeting tech. It released a series of rapid beeps, indicating that the plummeting raccoon was picking up speed. Peter tilted his body into a stepper dive, arms at his sides and legs mashed together. He drew closer, the fall seeming to take an eternity despite the urgent rate of potential death. “C’mon….c’mon….” Peter groaned, gritting his teeth as he outstretched an arm, fingers splayed in desperation to grab a hold of something, **anything** on Rocket to catch him.

An earthen bowl, sunk deep into the earth and housing a churning maelstrom of water, drew ever closer. Floating islands hovered peacefully above that elemental cauldron, each containing their own massive expanse of woodland and foliage. Quill’s fingers snagged underneath the chassis of the aero-rig, yanking himself down while simultaneously yanking Rocket up into his chest. He barely shielded that short, furry body with his arms before one of the floating islands caught up with them.

They crashed through the trees together, Peter holding the raccoon tight to his chest, taking the brunt of each impact. Vision blurred with brown and green, the ground materialized in an instant, driving into his shoulder. Rolling off the impact, his back was the next to bounce, then again and again. By the time Quill came to a stop, he had ricocheted around five times, skidding to a stop in the middle of the forest. Raising a hand up to deactivate his helmet, a pained grimace peered through.

“Rocket? Rocket, you okay buddy?” The raccoon was out cold, the only response a bounce of his head as Quill yanked the busted aero-rig off Rocket’s small frame. “Shit.” Forest green stretched infinitely in the distance, no discernible landmarks amongst the towering trunks to use as a way of navigation. All outside noise was dulled by the thick canopy above, yet a cool breeze slithered through the trunks and plants, entirely unfazed by their density. Fallen leaves and cracked roots occupied the ground, creating a gauntlet of tripping hazards for Star Lord. In his time back on Earth, what he remembered as an entire lifetime ago, nature had always been enjoyable. His mind wandered back to memories of him and his mother, Meredith, gazing up at the stars as they roasted hot dogs over an open fire. Lightning bugs would pulse and drift about, as if miniature stars themselves, and the droning of crickets and other insects would fill the night air. Such pastimes were just that, all in the past, and Peter couldn’t help but clench a longing in his chest for those days of his youth.

Having been lost among his nostalgia, the abrupt presence of shelter jarred Peter from his memories. Carved, stone doors stared him directly in the face, their frame colossal compared to his height. Each deep indent was flooded with moss, sickly green hues dotting over obsidian and molding into a dark, evil blue. Peter planted his shoulder into the door and have a full-bodied push, the structure unmoving under his strength.

“Damn it!” If he couldn’t break through, he’d fly above the obstacle. A swift kick of his jet boots caused their engines to spark to life, choke violently, and then die. Peter hadn’t even lifted up off the ground yet. “Are you serious?! Rrrraaaagggghh!!!” The human began to pace aggressively, eventually propping his unconscious partner up against a tree to ride out his frustration. “I’ve been here five minutes, **FIVE** , and I already despise this place!” Pumping every molecule of anger into his arms, Quill braced both hands against the doors and pushed. Unrelenting in his goal, his feet dug into the dirt, boots clawing up the soil and the grass as he scrambled to sink some leverage into the stone. “Nnnnngggh! Open you stupid door! Fucking……open!” His progress appeared to be in vain, even as his face began to turn red with effort. “Nnnnyyyyyyyyy **aaaggggggghhhh!!!,**

Pure elation ran through him as the stones finally budged, violently flying open and sending the 80’s relic dropping onto his face. Laughter followed, relieved, triumphant joy that echoed throughout the dark, musty-scented chamber.

“Woooo!!! Eat it, door! Nnngh!!” Quill taunted, bringing down the sides of both hands against his innermost thigh, where it and the groin connected. “Who opened you?! **I** opened you! Me, Star Lord, the number one Guardian of the Freaking Galaxy! AH-HA!” Shuffling towards the entrance in an impromptu dance, shoulder dipping and rising, fists raised akin to a boxer of yore. Multiple shadow punches flew through the air, Quill’s eyes locked onto the stone barricades. “Not so tough now are ya?! Nnnngh!!”

***THNK!!!***

“….ow….” he grimaced, clutching his hand as he flexed and unfixed his fingers, a pained vein throbbing under his skin. The sight of brown fur and blackened feet reminded the boastful mortal that Rocket was still sitting outside, so he quickly went to retrieve him. Upon picking up the raccoon again, the discovery was made that he seemed heavier than before, the adrenaline aiding Quill’s strength before having left him. Tilting Rocket in his arms, he grasped the animal’s chin and tilted his head to the side, planting an ear down to his chest to listen for a heartbeat.

***….THUMP THUMP….THUMP THUMP….THUMP THUMP…***

A sigh of relief slipped from Peter’s lips, at the sound of life. Taking a moment to analyze their new surroundings, darkness was the first aspect to greet him. No windows appeared to be present, attributing to the thick, musty smell that refused to vanish. From what could be seen, a second level was supported by thick, ornate pillars flanking both sides of the room. At the center, an indent sunk into the ground, coated by multiple steps at every angle. Beyond that, Quill couldn’t peer any deeper into the darkness. The need to set Rocket down again put an odd pit in his stomach, and for a brief moment, he almost didn’t. Yet, he was forced to.

Reaching down into his jacket pocket and grabbing his blaster in unison, he tilted the laser gun to the side and popped open a sliding panel. In his other hand rested a dimly glowing red pod, which he popped into the panel and shut it closed. Taking aim at the far wall, Star Lord fired a singular shot. A trail of bright red starlight arched through the air, piercing the darkness before sticking against the far wall to illuminate….nothing. You never know what could be lurking in the dark, after all. Feeling secure, the next goal was to wake up Rocket: joy. Crouching low, he gently patted the side of the raccoon’s unmoving face.

“Hey, Rocket….Roooooocket, wake up…” There was no response. “Rocket, I’m not kidding buddy, wake up.” In a huff of frustration, mingled with a tiny ounce of fear, Peter gave the diminutive Guardian a shake. “Rocket.” Still, there was no response. **”Rocket.”** “ROCKET!”

***SMACK!!!***

Peter saw stars before he even knew what hit him, finding his gaze redirected to the ceiling. When the second blow landed on the side of his head, a raging scream filled his ears; rippling, terrified, confused. Mind floating about in a white-sea of obliviousness, yet consistent awareness of what was occurring, he saw the third punch fly right at him. Pain blossomed right above his upper lip, his physical energy abandoning him as his back slammed onto the floor.

Rocket stood atop Quill’s chest, both furry fists curled into tightly coiled instruments of destruction, raining down punch after wild punch. A primal scream torrented from his mouth, bouncing off his exposed canines and the pink of his gums. Brown eyes bewildered and wild, he assaulted his assailant with primitive, instinctual strength. Blow after blow crashed into that pretty face, a chaotic desire to send away whatever had just jolted him awake and caused him pain. After a solid minute of straight ass-whooping, Rocket seemed to realize who he was pummeling.

“Quill?!” he panted, tiny chest heaving, each breath expanding his rib cage like a hot air balloon that would continuously deflate and refill. Piecing the events together, his paw slowly raised up to the side of his face and jaw, rubbing the sparking, sharp pain that resided there. “You smacked me!”

With a cough, the human winced in pain, tasting copper atop his tongue. “Yeah…in hindsight, bad idea…” As he rolled onto his side, fitful coughs wracking through his chest, Rocket jumped off. “You weren’t waking up…”

As if caught in a whole new world with his pants down, Rocket took in his surroundings with rapid, twitchy movement. “The hell are we? Where’s the giant rock thing?”

“Don’t know… ***cough*** ….It knocked you out of the air, I saved you…” A sharp ache in the temple made his explanation halt, hand raising up to press four fingers against the source. “And then found this place….”

The two, deep brown, nocturnal eyes in Rocket’s head winced in the presence of that abrasive red light. He raised a paw up to shield his gaze, lip curling in distaste, “What’s with the frigging light show?!”

Ignoring the question entirely, Peter spat out a tiny amount of lip-caught blood. _”Man…what do you freaking eat?”_ Even the beatdown in the bar from just the other day hadn’t felt this bad! _“I think you gave me a concussion….”_

“Quill….where’s my gun?”

“……..”

“QUIIIIIILL!!”

—————————————————————————————————————————————

“You lost my gun?!”

“I didn’t lose it, **you** lost it when you got whacked out of the sky!”

Rocket pinched his eyes together, then jutted his paws out, both index fingers sticking up tiny the air. With the flare having faded in intensity, he was able to address his grievances properly. “So you’re telling me….you let my baby, my darling, the weapon I built with my own two hands, fall into some….sinkhole?” His voice rose in volume, but maintained it’s low, agitated flavor. “The **Quantum Igniter** with quintuple-layered radiation cells, rotatable firing chamber with electrical, acidic, and gravitational specialty options, two ballistic matrices, plus teleportation pad dispenser… **AND YOU DROPPED IT DOWN A FRACKING HOLE?!?!?!?** ” The hysterical raccoon gripped onto the leather collar of that worn jacket, planting his forehead aggressively against Peter’s, foaming at the mouth as he seethed.

“…..it was probably more of a whirlpool, actually.”

A single, furry brow twitched in the throes of rage. “Alright, sorry, you dropped it down a **whirlpool** , that makes everything so much better. Gimme that!” Rocket swiped the blaster straight out of Peter’s grip, turning the weapon over and eyeballing it as he released those jacket fringes and turned away. “Hmm…small, under-performing, weak….”

“Hey….”

“But it’ll have to do.” Spinning on his heel, a shot was fired directly between Quill’s legs, barely missing his jewels by a singular hair.

“Rocket, what the hell man?!” Peter yelped, barely hopping back to avoid the second shot, and the third, and the fourth. That trigger happy raccoon consumed the energy battery like a ravenous fiend, aiming at Star Lord’s feet, a sadistic, loathing gleam in both eyes. Scorch marks littered the ground, stains on the mossy stone that infected the musty air with singed foliage.

“I know how much you love to dance Pete, so dance!” Despite only wielding a single blaster, the tactician covered enough ground as if he were wielding two. Each shot was expertly placed, enough to singe Peter’s boots and toes if he wasn’t fast enough, and never getting overzealous with the area of effect. “Apologize for losing my gun! Apologize for being a wimp, and apologize for flying us into a frigging black hole!”

“Apologize?!” Digging into his back pocket, Quill retrieved a gravitation manipulator, the three pronged device clicking open before he gave it an underhanded toss. With a flick of his wrist, the mechanical trap went flying, the suction locking onto the blaster and yanking it to the floor! Rocket’s arm went with it, the raccoon quickly releasing his grip on the weapon as it was pinned down, only to have its twin staring him down head on! “I saved your fuzzy ass! I found this place, I landed us safely, I pushed those heavy ass doors open, and I carried you all the way here! So don’t you point a gun at me you ungrateful little—“

“Oh, good for you!” that snarky, fed-up tone cut in. “You’re the big hero; what, you want a fracking cookie for giving a shit?!”

“Yes! That’s what our entire job is, to give a shit when we don’t have to, and I need to be compensated for that!”

“What about me, huh?! What about all those times I saved your hide and I didn’t get **jack?!** Not a single thank you, no favors, not even a beer! I saved your ass back in that bar, and I saved your ass when you almost flew us straight into a black hole! You put us here, so this is all your fault!!”

“MY FAULT?! If you had kept your dirty little paws to yourself, I wouldn’t have had to con some extra units off the locals to pay off **your** bounty! If you had just trusted me to handle myself, we wouldn’t have had to rush off-world, and we wouldn’t have bumped into that black hole, and then we wouldn’t be here!!”

“So it’s all my fault, huh?! The illustrious Star Lord can do no wrong! Is that how it is, you got your ego shoved so far up your ass that you think you’re above it all now?! Just blame everything on Rocket; he’s the thief, the rodent, the little monster who’s always ruining your perfect little public image!”

 **”I’M TRYING TO BE BETTER!!!!”** Quill’s roar shook dust from the nearby pillars, the entire forest falling eerily silent as his scream echoed across the island. The barrel of the blaster had pushed closer to Rocket’s muzzle, the raccoon’s unwavering brown eyes glaring daggers up at his captain. Said captain’s grip was shaking, face contorting as he reinforced his power over the gun. “I’m trying to get all of us to be better, so that we can actually have something after all this….You want people to stop saying you’re a little monster? Stop acting like one.”

Rocket’s ear gave a flick, a tempered point at the tip itching and burning away, slowly spreading downwards to the entire fuzzy appendage. “I’ve had my fill of people changing me.” he spat, swatting the gun away from his face. Turning his back on Star Lord, he began treading towards the entryway.

“Where are you going?”

A middle finger was the only response given.

Before Quill could utter another sentence, the raccoon had ducked out of view and into the expanse of trees. “Goddamnit…”


	3. Devil's Distance

***THWACK!***

“Fracking Quill….”

***THWACK!***

“Saved my ass….I saved **his** ass….”

***THWACK!***

“Self absorbed…”

***THWACK!***

“Pretty faced…”

***THWACK!***

“Momma’s boy!”

***THWACK!**

A sickly creak raked its fingers across Rocket’s ears as the tree bowed before his might. Leaves bounced, weightless, from the mossy ground, bark and wood splintering with a drawn out cry of ancient woe. Nature’s withdrawer proudly poised himself over his kill, a makeshift axe constructed of a sharpened rock, vines, and a reinforced log resting atop his shoulder.

Hours had stretched into one another, a daisy chain of time, since he had stormed off from the shelter. Time away from that narcissistic, pea-brained, humie jerk had allowed Rocket plenty of time to dwell. Distaste curled the side of his muzzle; foul tasting in his mouth as a hot sickness boiled in his stomach. An infectious rage coiled about his fingers, claws scraping into the wooden handle he held. Each highly unpleasant sensation brought that axe into the air, Rocket crashing it down into the fallen tree trunk.

Multiple, unnecessary strikes later, his anger had been vented. Both of his thin, furry arms burned with exertion, Rocket plunging the axe into the nearby soil. With a hissing inhale, he spat venomously onto the ground. Peter’s words still echoed in his mind, brewing a grey storm of doubt and weariness. All of his reserve anger drained out of his body in a singular, loud sigh that brought the raccoon’s ass crashing down upon the future firewood. **Was** all of this his fault?

The shame of failure marked his psyche; just another jab at his character, something for Quill to go and tell Drax and Gamora about so they could laugh at him. Gamora already hated his guts, and Drax was too thick-skulled to confide in. Aside from Groot, Peter was the only other person he could potentially get to like him, and he had just gone and screwed that up. He felt an ugly surge wrap around his chest and weigh down his mood; just a worthless, fuzzy sack of….

Rocket’s ears twitched, both feet catapulting him up, hands grabbing at the handle of the axe, holding it out in front of him like a weapon as he spun around.

“Whoa bud, chill!” It was just Peter, and his stupid face. “Listen, I wanted to—“

***THWACK!***

Shards of wood shot into the air, the stone axe buried deep in the trunk, making Peter wince. “Rocket, I—“

***THWACK!***

“I just wanted to apolo—“

***THWACK!***

“To apolo—“

***THWACK!***

“Would you knock that off?!”

Rocket wasn’t even looking at his captain, already sawing the axe back and forth before violently yanking it free. “Go on Pete, I’m listening.”

Star Lord bit his tongue in agitation, forcing the blossoming aggression he was feeling down into his stomach. He had to be patient, Rocket had every right to be mad at him. Going with the classic calming technique dubbed Hands-On-Hips-Style, Pete wet his lips in preparation to lay his usual charm on the raccoon. “Roc—“

***THWACK!***

“Okay….I deserve that…but you’re not getting another.”

“And you ain’t getting the chance to throw another fake apology on me! Piss off, Quill. I don’t wanna hear it outta you.”

An uneasy silence followed as Rocket began to gather all his chopped lumber. Peter stood by and didn’t lift a single finger; the act of charity might just piss his friend off even more. The situation was an entire catch twenty-two; if he said nothing, Rocket would get mad at him for not caring. If he did something to show he cared, Rocket would take it as pity.

“Look, we’re probably going to be stuck here for a while, so we need to straighten this out now. I am **sorry** that you lost your gun, but you can just make another one.”

“Out of what? Hmm? These sticks here?” Rocket slid one of the pieces of wood from the bundle and tossed it at Star Lord, flinging it like a card dealer. “Yeah, I’ll just replace my most valuable, meaningful possession with fracking **sticks!** Look, it’s working great already!” Stick after stick was thrust out at Peter, those dexterous raccoon hands launching each one with impunity.

“Ow! Hey, it was either you or the gun. I couldn’t save both and I…ow! Rocket! I chose you, you dumbass!” Swiping hands did their best to deflect the wooden projectiles, but stray shards and frayed ends managed to bite into his skin. The barrage of sticks ended.

“What’d you lose out of that Quill, huh? What’d you have to lose, because from where I’m standing, I’m the only one here who lost something! You still got your stupid music thing, your stupid gadgets, your stupid helmet, and you don’t seem no worse for wear!” After a pause, Peter crouched down, picking up the sticks that had been thrown at him and placing them atop each other in his other hand. Rocket leaned back a bit, lip curling up, ear twitching as he watched the humie pick up all that kindling. “The hell you doing?” the raccoon sneered.

With a light sigh, Peter placed the sticks back into their pile in Rocket’s paw, neither of their gaze’s meeting as the wood clacked together. “…I could’ve lost **you**.”

“…..I gotta go start the fire…..” The mumble was barely out before his shoulder crashed into Star Lord’s, urgently pushing by and making a beeline for their shelter.

Watching the raccoon rush off in silence, Star Lord looked over at the stone axe imbedded in the ground and picked it up. Sturdy, well-balanced, yet crude, it was masterfully crafted; no less expected from Rocket Raccoon. Lightly tracing the edge of the sharpened stone, he found the urge to swing it rise in his arms. Perhaps out of frustration, fear, or even to lapse his mind into a simpler state where negative emotions couldn’t immediately affect him, he gave the tool a lazy swing. The weight felt good. Knowing they’d need the axe again, he draped the handle atop his shoulder and followed after Rocket; something in his gut told him this was going to be a long night.

—————————————————————————————————————————————

Even in the coming darkness, the sound of crashing water droned on in the distance. No other natural noise rose up to battle against it; not even wildlife or wind. All Rocket could hear was the crackling of his fire, paws held out to absorb the warmth it radiated. There was inherit comfort in the fire, a tenderness that cradled and hugged along his fingers and arms. To his knowledge, nothing dangerous or malicious was lurking deep inside the stone structure, but fire always helped to ward away such dangers. Normally, Rocket wouldn’t worry, because he’d have an ionic organ churner to wave around.

Tossing more wood onto the fire, his brown eyes ended up losing themselves in the seething depths of the flickering flames. He found himself suddenly weary, two dexterous fingers pinching the space between his eyes; he couldn’t brush off his inner reaction to Peter’s words. It wasn’t just what he had said, but also the way he said it. _I could’ve lost you…._

A heavy scraping noise made Rocket glance over his shoulder to witness the cumbersome opening of the front door. There had been a small opening, left to allow the smoke to drift out, but it hadn’t done enough to prevent the interior from turning into a minor hotbox. Sure enough, his nocturnal vision could make out Star Lord’s hands pushing the stone open. The abrasive grinding made his ears flick, agitated and begging to be set free from that torturous noise. An urge rippled through his body, compelling him to slump closer to the comforting fire, and so he did, shoulders ducking down and away from Star Lord.

He could feel his captain’s presence bear down over him, another imposing shadow that added invisible, mental weight onto the raccoon’s posture. Rocket sank even further, paws sliding together, elbows resting on his knees, causing that orange glow to increase in intensity. As Quill’s physical presence made an indent in the peripheral air next to him, Rocket tensed his arms and clenched his paws together, _“Go away….go away you flarking idiot….”_

Only the crackling of the fire spoke, both Guardians remaining absolutely silent, even after Star Lord sat down next to Rocket on the floor. Neither of them looked to one another, finding their own minuscule distractions to use as an excuse. The absence of conversation bloated the atmosphere with tension, tempting words bleeding at the edges of their tongues. Of course, silence was never eternal, and one of them eventually broke it: Quill.

“Are we going to use any of this wood to try and make a bed or something?”

“…..hadn’t thought about it.”

“…..we also need to do something about food.”

“What’s in your pockets?”

“Lets see….nothing.”

“Swell, guess we’ll just go to bed hungry.” In a final moment of effort, the raccoon rummaged through his own pockets, of which he had plenty. A multitude of objects were pulled out; a thin roll of tape, a black cylinder with a singular, tiny red button located near the top edge, two small orbs filled with inky darkness, a portable flashlight, and an envelope-shaped electronic device. “Frigging great, nothing edible. I guess if we can find anything tasty-looking on this rock, I can cut some bits off.” Tapping the red button on the black cylinder, a bright red energy shot out, morphing into the shape of a serrated blade. An unhealthy glow mingled with the natural energy of the fire, casting Rocket’s face in a pungent orgy of reds.

Star Lord gave a wary nod, reaching down and snagging up both of those black spheres, holding them up to try and peer beyond the veil. “I hope whoever you got these from still wanted them.” The peering, accusatory glare that Rocket shot his captain made the human instantly raise his guard. “If you steal something from someone who doesn’t want it anymore, what does that say about the thing you’re stealing? Huh?”

“….and your point is?”

“Do you even know what these things do? What if they give you the power to see into the future; or, on the completely opposite end, suck your brain out through your ass?”

“….Why do you always gotta get gross, Quill?”

“I’m just **saying** , it should be more than a good enough reason not to go snatching up stuff that you’re not gonna sell. If getting your organs vacuumed out of your furry butt isn’t enough to keep you from being a little magpie, then maybe nothing will!” Placing the dark orbs back onto the ground, parenting them to ensure their shape didn’t cause them to commit suicide by burning, he then reached out to grasp the thin electronic pad.

“Hey, hey, hey! Hands off!” Rocket slapped the top of Peter’s hand away and swiftly tucked the object back into his jumpsuit pocket.

The abruptness of the action made Quill sigh; they had both always been protective of their belongings, but the timing couldn’t have been worse to deal with it. “Can it help us find the ship?”

“No, no it can’t. Even if it could, that rust bucket is probably more of a scrapheap now than it already was.”

“Yeah….you kept it going though, even after both backup engines fried, when we ran out of fuel that one time and landed on a passing asteroid, and even when the navigation system got totally fried going through that electrical storm.”

The most minuscule grin cracked the corners of Rocket’s mouth praise always warmed his core, especially when the sincereness was obvious. “Seems that’s all I do anymore, fix everything that your dumbass breaks.”

“ **We** , we fix stuff that everyone breaks: our own stuff, the galaxy’s stuff, hell, even each other’s stuff.” Rocket’s smile was infectious, birthing a brimming hope inside of Peter’s chest. “We’ll fix this mess just like we do everything else, no problem.”

For a brief moment, in a span of time that seemed to have lasted forever yet to the both of them only seemed to have lasted a second, their eyes met. Dark brown mixed with hazel green, and a sense of contentment tugged at the underside of their hearts. The option to break the visual link soon became an afterthought, tension and anxiety bleeding away to make space for a lightness of soul. Rocket was the first to break the chain, his eyes wavering for a brief enough moment that the spell broke.

“I should be getting some sleep….you gonna put the fire out?” Rocket began rolling onto his side before the declaration was even halfway through, facing away from Star Lord to create a psychological barrier between them. Despite the normality of the action, seeing Rocket turn from him ran an unpleasant pocket of air through his throat. That heavy, internal mountain lodged just above his lungs, creating an equally unpleasant orb in his throat. A nagging disturbance at this particular feeling welled inside, causing Quill to look back into the fire.

“Sure thing, as long as your snoring doesn’t keep me up all night. If that happens, I’m going to need more wood to keep this roaring.” Gaze locked, his head remained in place, even as that all-too-familiar voice graced his ears again.

“I don’t snore Pete, you’re thinking of Drax.”

Peter heard no more from the raccoon, yet continued to wait until he was absolutely certain that his awareness was his own. With strained precision and lightness of feet, he slid off his jacket and draped if over the slumbering form next to him. Rocket didn’t need it, Quill knew that, but the gesture had been acted upon just as swiftly as it had appeared. Lacking the extra layer, his reinforced arms cooked in the glowing heat, as did his face. Fingers stretched outward, carelessly dancing with the licking flames, towing a line between twin desires. Current events seemed to be far too strenuous to be real, yet Quill couldn’t snap himself free of the dream. A light burn might be enough to jolt awake a slumbering mind, but the allure of relaxation wouldn’t be ignored. In his mindlessness, heat lingered far too close and spiked in his fingertips.

Not a burn, but closely related to one caused both hands to withdraw posthaste. All of the serenity that had been slowly cocooning him snapped out of existence, and now comfort was dethroned by discomfort. Energy sucking pops and crackles of molecular manipulation erupted beneath his skin; he needed air. Sweat glued the material of his shirt to his body, slowly peeling off as if reptilian in nature. Defined, healthy muscle structure gleamed in the burning light, shimmering briefly as the human jolted to his feet and headed for the double stone doors. Not wishing to wake Rocket, he slipped his frame through the provided space, a cooling breeze blasting across his overheated body. Nature grew fickle as he left the shelter of stone, only gracing him with the cooling breeze for a second longer before vanishing. Endless lines of trees stretched off into the distance, glimmering with infestations of unknown wildlife. Strangely, not a sound could be heard; the rustling of branches and leaves, the alien communication of strange organisms, nor footfalls of any beast or man. Jogging through the omnipotent atmosphere of nature. Quill donned his headphones and clicked down on the Play button.

 _”Yeah, yeah, ah, yeah_  
_I live my life like there’s no tomorrow_  
_And all I’ve got, I had to steal_  
_Least I don’t need to beg or borrow  
_ _Yes I’m living at a pace that kills"_

 _"Ooh yeah_  
_(Ahh)_  
_Runnin’ with the Devil_  
_(Ahh-hah, yeah)_  
_(Woo-hoo-oo)_  
_Runnin’ with the Devil  
_ _Yes, I’m, yeah, hoo"_

A deep gash in the earth, catching Quill’s eye slowed his pace to a crawl. The descending path was steep, dotted with jagged rocks and gnarled roots. Boots planted firm, he began to carefully tread down the path, gaining a solid foothold before taking the next step. Browns, greens, and sickly greys began to bleed away into stark, lifeless ivory. All foliage vanished as the ground shriveled, angry, elderly veins pulsating beneath a salted kingdom of soil. The dark skyline hovered in the distance, a sheer drop of unknown height presenting a passive threat as the ground began to lose width beyond the trancelike gateway.

“What the hell…” he muttered, sliding his headphones off to rest around his neck. Everything was barren, scraggly tendrils of long-decayed roots grasping from the sides of the open tunnel path. Dull light pulsed in one of the starved, earthen veins, almost audibly to attract Peter’s hand. Upon touching the tube, a light began to shine from within, as if alive, then careened away from him. Giving chase, a light jog was more than enough to keep pace, eventually leading him forward, skidding along the curve that the path took. Peter’s toes hung over the abyss for a brief moment, his body shifting to ensure that he didn’t plummet to his death. A light breeze tickled over his back as he escaped farther away from the edge, drawn towards a throbbing, white light coming from inside a nearby hole in the wall.

Too thin to squeeze through, but large enough for Star Lord to slip his hand into, the wound in the stone wall was dressed in dull, milky white light. Beams seemed to violently jut out into the open, only stopped by the Guardian’s approach. Putting his eye up to the hole, it widened upon seeing what rested inside. A smile began to grow on his face, soon cutting his cheeks into a full blown grin.

“Heheh…you’ve done it again, Star Lord, you absolutely magnificent bastard.”


	4. Rocky Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a long time, about a month and a half almost, I'm extremely aware. Between overtime at work, stressful weeks at work on top of that, and also having a tiny bout of writer's block, no wonder it's taken this long. Hope you enjoy, more to come as ideas are already in the rough draft stage, just as I wrapped up this chapter.

“Rocket! Rocket!” 

Nausea, a budding headache, and pain in his neck caused the raccoon’s eyes to open. Every color was a blur, nothing was discernible, but he could hear clearly enough. “What?!” The world calmed down to a picture-esque stillness, but all he could see was Star Lord’s grinning mug. A hot odor curled his nose, “Oof....when’s the last time you brushed?”

“Why, does my breath stink?” Peter asked, quickly raising a bare hand to his mouth and breathing into his palm.

To remove the haze in his vision, Rocket slowly took deep blinks, rubbing at the corners of his eyes as a yawn threatened to rise out of his throat. “Why are you waking me up?”

“I found something awesome that might help us out!”

Rocket’s response took its sweet time coming out of his mouth. “Is it a functional ship that can get us outta here?”

“No, but, just look!” Turning out of Rocket’s direct line of sight, Quill gestured to what he had been concealing, a pile of transparent crystals.

“Great, you found a bunch of rocks. Whoopty-friggin-doo. I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, no, no, Rocket, you’ve gotta see what these things can do. I found a bunch of them out in a cave, and spent forever dragging them back.”

“Goodnight Quill.”

As he settled down into his side, the conversation already fading from his mind, the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps caused his ear to flick. The grimy toes of Quill’s boots suddenly appeared in front of him. “Watch this.” In one hand, Peter held his blasters, and in the other, one of the crystals. Taking aim, he fired off a shot!

Rocket recoiled, but upon cracking his eye back open, he saw that the one clear crystal now housed a bright, crackling yellow light. He grasped the rock in both hands, tilting it about as a smile began to tear at his muzzle. “It’s like an energy battery...” Warm to the touch, it seemed to hum in his grip, whips of glitchy energy spiking in arcs about the interior. “A frigging power source! Haha!” Hope blossomed inside him, spurring him to his feet. Something began to slide off his shoulders and down his back, but the only thing that could keep his gaze was the newfound discovery right before him.

Star Lord leaned in and scooped his jacket up from the dusty, dirty floor. A smile of his own, created by the presence of Rocket’s happiness, tensed at his cheeks. “Hey, how about a thank you?” Seeing Rocket eyeball a shiny new toy reminded him of Earth raccoons and the way they always stared at chunks of food with such reverence. There was always more of an obvious care, more gears grinding away in his head, something beyond the average raccoon that continued to remind him just how special the furball was.

“Put a shirt on Quill, I’m thinking.” Humming quietly to himself, the Guardian padded his way over the the crystal pile. His clawed fingers drummed along the sides of the singular crystal he held, eyes scanning for an acceptable test subject. Reaching down, he grabbed another crystal, then moved a few feet away from the mound and kneeled down. Placing one on the ground, he held the other aloft, then tapped both together. The yellow energy nexus vanished from the one that he held, transferred into the previously empty host. “Damn, it’s not self sustainable...”

“What’s up?” Peter asked, leaning down over Rocket’s fuzzy head until he felt that soft fur tickle his abdomen. A ticklish sensation caused his abs to tense, as those ears flicked against that slightly slick flesh.

“I was kind of hoping these would keep generating whatever was put inside, but it looks like they’re just glorified cups.” Rocket tilted his head back, only to be greeted by the toned, sweaty chest of Star Lord. “PUT ON A FRAGGING SHIRT!”

“It’s hot out.”

“Go find some water to wash the stink off you, then, while I work with this stuff.”

“We’d find it faster if we both went out and looked together.”

“We’d get more stuff done in the longterm if you’d quit being a baby and just find it on your own. Let me focus on this, you focus on finding something to clean up in.” Rocket continued to tap the crystals together, eyes locked to see if there were any alterations in the energy’s intensity. Even after five transfers, nothing had changed. “I’ve got too many tests to run, so I don’t have time to be taking baths with you.”

“....when did I say anything about taking the bath together?” Those inquisitive fingers faltered, stopping completely on the side of the crystal. The slightest ruffle of fur dragged along his ribs again, and as he leaned even lower to catch a peek at his friend’s expression, Rocket’s head turned away. “Rocket?”

“No.”

“Rocket.”

“No, Quill.” 

“Rocket.”

“I said no, Quill! No Quill, no Quill, no Quill; put it in a bottle and sell it to people who have trouble sleeping! No Quill.” A powerful warmth draped down over his shoulders and against the back of his head. Peter’s bare arms wrapping around to compress his chest. “....what are you doing? Stoppit.”

“I’ll drop it if you come look with me. You can even bring a crystal or two along, to see if they hold water. Makeshift water bottles would come in real handy out here, you know.” Even with the stressful events; having been in the bar fight, getting sucked through the black hole, crash landing and Rocket almost getting squashed by a giant hand, he still smelled nice. A mixture of light musk and, well, Rocket; Peter couldn’t associate it with anything else. The dark fur tickled against his nose, that scent becoming just a bit stronger, and only lasted for a brief moment before Rocket scurried out from under him.

Heart rate bullying the breath out of his lungs in rapid, tiny punches, the floor became increasingly interesting. “Fine! I’ll go help you find this stupid nature tub, just....get off my tail, yeesh.”  
—————————————–——-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Without any of their rocket tech, traversing the island was cumbersome. Unable to just fly above the tree line and scan the horizon, both of them were required to trudge along on foot. Rocket carried the crystal, cradling it in one of his arms.

“Making me lug this thing around like this, you should feel bad.”

“I could carry it for a bit.”

“You’d just drop it.”

“Then what’s your problem? Is this because of the shirt thing?”

“Yes, yes it is. You won’t even give up a small strip of it, for me to make a carrying sling; some friend you are.

“This is my only shirt, Rocket. I’m not letting you rip it apart to make a baby blanket for a rock.”

“You weren’t so attached to it back at the camp.”

“And yet you forced me to put it back on. Now you want me to show more skin, so which is it? Do you want my shirt on or do you want it off?”

“I just want a piece to make life easier, not to inflate your overcompensating ego!”

Beyond what they could see, everything was a mystery, so the path was laid straight ahead. An immortal expanse of trees eventually withered and splintered apart, replaced by a dry, rocky expanse that curved down and out into the island. 

Rocket perked his ears as a steady, crashing sound sang out in the distance. “Hear that?” His feet slid against the ground, dust and rocks bouncing aside as his descent into the bowl began, with Star Lord not far behind. At the bottom of the basin, there was nothing but dried earth. Yet, a levitating slab of soil was perched high above, foamy water plummeting downwards into the ground. “Something ain’t right here...”

“Maybe that’s just how it works on this planet.” Gravity didn’t feel too drastically different, neither light nor heavy, but there was certainly some force keeping the waterfall’s origin afloat. Trailing his eyes down the cascading curtain, the expected violent crash at the bottom was non-existent. No pool of water was present, the stretch of land dried and dusty as the present source of hydration simply phased through the ground. Star Lord stuck a leg out, and the stream bounced off his boot. “It’s real.”

“Huh, and here I thought it was a hologram the whole time.” Rocket snidely commented, crouching to stare at the anomaly. “Would be one hell of a hologram though.” He peered around the side of the water, leaning in closer. The waterfall wasn’t a simple display of gravity; the flow curved back and upwards all the way back to the island in the sky, creating an endless loop that fed into itself. As if to guarantee what he was seeing was real, Rocket reached out and touched the flowing water with a single finger.

Star Lord jumped as the raccoon was sucked into the stream, vanishing from sight. “Rocket!” Both arms jammed themselves into the water, trying to either snag something or somehow follow the same course, but Peter remained grounded. “Rocket!” Dashing around, neck craned to try and see any blur of brown that he could find, his hands cupped at the edges of his mouth. “ROCKET!!”

The world spun in a violent canvas of blues, head forcefully swiped to and fro until cool air graced Rocket’s nape. Ears clogged, fur matted, and mouth flooded, he flopped onto dry land. Water burst from his mouth, lungs squeezing it all out and onto the ground, with painful efficiency. A far off echo rang in his ear, “Rocket!” Stumbling forward, the edge found purchase in his grip, and the vacant land brow stared up at him. Wiping water from his eyes, the raccoon finally barked out a reply.

“I’m fine! Up here!”

“What the hell happened, man?!”

“Gimme....a minute!” A sputtering cough vacated the final vestiges of foreign liquid in his body.

“I can’t get up to you! The stupid stream isn’t taking me.”

Wind ruffled his matted fur, the sun’s presence slowly beginning to dry him out, Rocket pushed to his feet. Upon turning around, vertigo’s ghost riding on his back, the island revealed its beauty; bright green foliage, crystal clear water flowing constantly down the center, and limping trees of bright orange and green that cast shade upon the ground. Next to the stream sat Rocket’s crystal, the glow having vanished entirely.

“Yo Pete, I’ve got an idea! Catch!” The crystal tumbled over the edge of the island, spiraling down towards Quill, who caught it after a rapid repositioning. “Try touching the water now.” Silence followed, then a few seconds after, a sputtering and coughing Quill landed on the ground next to Rocket. Immediately, the raccoon picked the crystal from Star Lord’s soaked arms.

“Great, now my jacket is soaked.”

“Shut it you big baby, we’ll dry it by the fire tonight. I can’t believe after what we just discovered, you’re whining about your jacket.”

“What did we discover exactly?” Star Lord inquired as he picked water out of his ears.

“That this frigging little beauty is one big multi-purpose tool! It holds energy, it opens pathways; who knows what else it’s capable of?” 

Peter was already stripping down, tearing the form-choking attire off piece by piece. Unceremoniously, a pile was formed next to the stream; a pile that his bare human feet stepped over before entering the stream. He sighed in relief as the cool water rushed over his feet and ankles, hearing Rocket leg out a groan. A cocky grin manifested as water slid down his arms, carried up in both hands. “Something wrong buddy?” Small splashing reached his ears, causing Peter to turn his head. 

Silence floated between the two, one crouching down in the stream while the other stood. One facing away while the other stared directly at that lonesome back. Temptation and tension twisted the metaphorical arm of the atmosphere, Rocket saying absolutely nothing as Star Lord bathed himself. Perhaps it was a matter of granting privacy or dignity; maybe an entirely different motivation was the cause. Either way, the silence was cold.

To distract his mind, and thus his gaze, Rocket focused on the crystal. Submerging it beneath the refreshing stream, he only held it under for a brief moment before withdrawing. As he suspected, water was now housed in that glassy prison, bringing a smile to his face. Raising the container aloft, the raccoon tilted his head back and gave it a shake, causing a stream of water to cascade down upon him. A brief shake of his head and torso later, Rocket was humming happily. “I’m gonna assume this little guy can hold and dispense just about anything, which means...”

“You’ve got all the time in the world to get creative. Not to be a buzzkill or anything, but what about food?” 

The humming instantly ceased. “We’ll need to find something. This place is frigging big enough; gotta be something edible nearby.”

“Can you even cook?”

“....no, can you?”

“....no.”

“Well, I don’t plan on being stuck here long enough to go hungry. You focus on food, I’ll focus on getting us out of here.”

“How exactly do you plan to do that?”

“Like I just said, you let me worry about that.”

Star Lord sighed and stepped out of the stream. “Fine, you tinker, and I’ll bring home the bacon.”

“What’s bacon?” Rocket asked, head shooting back in the other direction after he saw a flicker of Pete’s still unclad body.

“It’s cooked pig meat: delicious.” 

“What’s a pig?”

“It’s....”

“An Earth thing?”

“Yes, it’s an Earth thing. I doubt we’re gonna find any around here though.”

“Then how are you bringing home the bacon?”

“Dude, it’s an expression!”

“Well, what’s it mean?”

“It means that I’m going be the one who brings home all the most important stuff; you know, the stuff that keeps us alive?! Food, water, wood, stuff for your gadgets, while you sit around at camp all day. In Earth terms, you’re my wife.”

Rocket flicked his right ear, then scrunched up his muzzle and sneezed. Immediately after, he scratched behind the same ear, “What’s a wife?” He recoiled with a startled yelp, jumping forward as a cascade of cold water hit his back.

“Now you’re just dicking with me.”

“Damnit Quill, I was almost dry!”

“Now who’s being a big baby?” Peter’s laughter echoed into the distance as he continuously splashed at a fleeing Rocket. Splash after splash had caused him to drop the crystal, too focused on avoiding the cool water. During the chase, clawed feet slid to a screeching halt, and dark brown eyes looked skyward. High above, blocking the sun, was a tree; and perched up in that tree were three bulbous fruits.

The final tidal wave reached over Rocket’s head, matting down his fur. Fingers curling into fists, head beginning to shake the water off with raging vibrations, his toes digging in to whirl himself around.

“Pfff, you look like a tiny sprink—“

“If one more Earth-Only thing comes out of your mouth, I swear, I’ll leave you stranded up here! Now shut it, there might be food up here.” Grasping the sides of the tree, he scampered as only an animal could; graceful and effortless. The vibrant fruit swayed in the wind, even as small hands reached out and grabbed hold. With the softest of tugs, the fruit came free, allowing Rocket to shimmy back down. Easily malleable skin bowed and curved against a liquid core, almost containing the power to slip free of his grip. Tracing a claw along the fragile object, he questioned the risk of consuming this unknown substance, then a sharp jab sent juice gushing skyward. As if infused with the grace of angels, the juice that surged down Rocket’s tongue left a heavenly imprint. While his thirst was quenched, the hunger still raged, so his teeth tore into the soft skin. A clot heaved out, viscosity matching that of tar, and spilled onto his front. From chin to waist he was stained in pink, mottled flecks of golden blue accenting the almost violent visual. “Fragging....frack.”

Quill watched this all with rapt attention, “Thought you weren’t hungry.” Seeing Rocket eat so ravenously wasn’t new; seeing him ruin his only pair of clothes for the meal, however, was. 

“Yeah, well...” That sentence was never finished as he devoured the remaining bits of fruit carcass. “There’s no dry cleaning on this stupid, frigging...” His voice trailed off into a murmur, as he began to unbuckle and unzip his jumpsuit.

With the curtain falling, Quill openly stared; trimmed fur revealed a toned stomach, and hip-hanging pants revealed a stand-out patch of fur right above the waistband. An innocent tune carried out onto the wind, brought about by a head turn as the veil fully dropped.

“...hard to even find clothes in my size, anyway!” Rocket’s ear flicked at the look on Peter’s face. “What?” Chin and eyes lowering, his head shot to the side, paw rising up to block his peripheral. “Are your pants dry yet?! Damnit!!”

“Why do you keep looking, Rocket?”

“I’M NOT LOOKING!!!!” The screech was followed by a hasty jaunt towards the stream. Fumbling with his suit, the raccoon hopped about to free his second leg, then kicked them it the water. “I’m gonna have to make myself a new pair of eyes, rip out my current ones, and replace em with those, because of you!” Furiously rubbing his paws and fingers along the fabric, his back hunched over, shoulders digging in to apply extra force. 

Peter bent down and picked up his damp jeans, raising them up to the sun. Partially to help them dry faster, but more-so to hide his failing smile. The divide between Rocket’s humanity and his augmentations reared up; his friend was as human as they came, yet the scars on his back told otherwise. That was a barrier Quill could never tear down, no matter how many drinks they shared, jokes he made, or bad guys they killed: they were the same, yet not. Friendship was friendship, but would Rocket hang around him if he wasn’t the last of his kind? 

“Bet Gamora’s tearing through the galaxy to find you.”

The voice shook him from his defeatist thoughts. “Huh?”

“You forget to clean your ears out? I said your girlfriend is probably tearing a warpath through millions of assholes to find you.”

“I’m sure Groot is doing the same for you.”

“Yeah, ‘cept Groot and I aren’t a thing. When are you gonna grow a pair, anyway?”

“I already have a pair, the biggest pair, thank you very much. What are you trying to say, anyway?”

“Ain’t no trying about it Pete; you’ve been dancing around this Green Fever thing forever and it’s nauseating. Just get it done so the rest of us don’t have to deal with your goo-goo eyes.” Water flicked from his pants, as he whipped them through the air. Disdain curved his muzzle, setting the clothing on the sun-baked grass. “Still can’t believe she’d go for someone so below her pay grade.”

“....okay, you’ve got about two seconds to explain before I break one of these fruits over your furry little head.” Grasping his blaster from the pile of drying clothes, a single shot was carelessly loosed over his shoulder. Without a single glance, the fruit landed safely in his arms. 

“It’s a joke Quill, lighten up. Frigging Star Lord: The Legendary Outlaw is hooking up with Gamora: The Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy. Meanwhile, Drax the Frackin’ Destroyer is there too, and oh, who’s that in the background? It’s Groot, just Groot, and Rocket.” A swift crack of his suit tore through the air.

“So....you’re jealous because you don’t have a cool title?” A laugh slipped through his lips before he could halt it. “Easily fixable, I’ll make one up for you.” Mimicking Rocket’s method, he poked at the membrane with his fingernail. Not powerful enough to break through, he bunched up the skin as best he could and bit into it. Sweet juices gushed up into his mouth, and after three solid gulps, he pulled off. 

“That’s not how it works, Quill. Just because you give yourself a title doesn’t mean you deserve it.”

“Hey, I’m one-hundred percent legendary.”

“Legends put on pants.”

Quill smiled and set the fruit down onto the ground. “They’re about dry. So, what would you wanna be remembered for?”

“Oh, that’s easy; for building the most badass weapons in any galaxy.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?”

“You don’t wanna be known for anything else? You can have multiple titles, you know; go big.”

“Quality over quantity, Quill.”

“Fine; how about...Rocket: The Tinkerer.”

The raccoon turned his torso, lip curled, “I don’t tinker; I craft.”

“Fastest Brain in the Galaxy?”

“No.”

“Rocket: The Really Recognizable!”

“No.”

“Rocket: The Raging Wrecking Raccoon.”

“Not a raccoon.”

“Rocket: The Late Night Ravager.”

“What?”

“Wreck Me Rocket.”

“Whoa! What—“

“Rocket: The Rear Reamer!”

“Quill—“

“Fat Cock Rocket.”

“What the hell?!”

“Hahahahaha! I’m just messing with you man!”

Shaking his head, fur mostly warm and dried out, Rocket stepped out of the stream. “You’ve got issues, Quill.” Draping the jumpsuit over his shoulder, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Wait....how are we gonna get down from here without getting soaked again?”

“...fuck.” “...frack.”

———————————————————

Two dripping Guardians trudged on back to base, soaked clothes draped over their shoulders. The hot air slowly worked its magic, along with a breeze that provided occasional relief. Not being able to handle the visual of his nude friend, Rocket walked next to Star Lord and kept his eyes locked on the path ahead. If he looked left, he’d see far too much of Quill, but if he had walked behind him, there would be no escaping the ass shot.

“You sure that thing can’t dry us?” Star Lord asked, eyeballing the empty crystal.

“I’d need something to put in it first, and hot air doesn’t seem to want to go in. We’ll just find a big rock or something and steam ourselves on that.”

“Ugh, this heat...it’s making me chafe.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you don’t feel it. You should be hotter than me!”

“I am hotter than you.”

“No, temperature wise.”

“That’s what I said....and also in the other way. The difference is that I’m not complaining about it.”

“There’s an air conditioner in you, isn’t there?”

In response, two of Rocket’s claw swiped across the human’s thigh. “Shut it, Quill.”

“Yeow! Asshole!”

“You were being a dick.”

“I’m being a di—“ Peter stooped and cleared his throat. “You’re a bigger dick than me any day.” The lack of an instantaneous reprisal piqued his interest, and as his head turned, he was greeting with the side profile of a snickering raccoon. “Wait, no!! That came out wrong!!”

“Hahahahahahaha!”

The path forward was filled with familiarity, craggy earth turning into patchy earth, then patchy earth turning into luscious green. Grass slid between their toes and tickled at their feet; cool and smooth despite the clinging heat. Star Lord, spotting the edges of their ancient refuge, began to use a longer gait. “First order of business....make a plan. We know where food is, where water is, where—“

“Hold up; random thought.”

“Okay, what?”

“Is all of the funk we washed off back there gonna just keep rotating through?”

“You mean through the stream?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. We’ll just check back tomorrow, but now, we need to—“

“Find our ship?”

“No. We need to—“

“Find a ship?”

“Why don’t you focus on long term instead of short term? We could be stuck here a while. We need a bunch of this stuff to survive, and make sure that we don’t run out; food before flight.” Placing both hands on the massive doors once again, his back and triceps tended as he pushed forward.

“Long term is just an excuse to stick around. We do it my way, we’ll be back on Xandar in no time, and you can get a lap dance from some Nova Corps broad.” Rocket’s gaze lingered on that straining back, finding it a much better, and far less embarrassing, alternative. “Sometime today would be nice.”

All of the force behind Peter’s arms stopped. “Do you wanna open the door? Be my guest, I’d love to see you try, ya furball.” Pushing against the door once more, it finally began to give, and the effort required became less and less. 

Placing his crystalline cargo onto the ground, then using the cracks and grooves within the stone, Rocket scaled the front of the structure. On the way up, he stopped and gave his friend a present: a bird. “Eat my ass, Quill.” 

“Can’t, might get ringworm!” With one final heave, the doors opened, allowing the human to slip inside.

“...idiot.” Climbing higher and higher, an upper level window exposed itself. The opening was covered by thick tendrils of vines and moss, but they weren’t thick enough to keep out a raccoon. After wiggling through the blockade, Rocket’s nose curled violently at the musty stench. Hot air and foul odor combined in his throat, forcing out a gag, so he clamped a hand over his mouth and nose. Only a minor amount of light was allowed to enter, providing no reprise from the claustrophobic atmosphere. Objects of all sorts flooded the room; a treasure trove of junk. Carefully scaling the jagged sea, he eventually made it to the opposite end and stepped down onto a hefty stone slab. “Bet myself four-hundred units this is another crystal gimmick...and I left it back there; frigging great. QUILL!!!!”

“Yeah?” the faint reply echoed back.

“Grab a crystal and follow my voice!”

An eternity seemingly passed before Peter’s voice returned. “Okay, where are you?”

“Upper floor!!” Rocket rubbed at his throat, coughing from the strain on his vocal cords. A faint light began to form on the slab beneath him. “Warmer!” The glow grew in intensity, framing the edges of the slab as a circular pattern formed at the center. “Warmer, warmer, almost th-“ Gravity ripped the floor right out from under him, the slab plummeting with a resounding crash. Rocket felt his knees grind under the strain, spine bent forward to steady himself on the sudden descent. As the dust cleared, he cracked open an eye to spot a terrified Star Lord, perched on one leg, eyes wide, and hands protecting his face.

“Are you telling me that could happen at anytime?!” Dropping the crystal, the human turned on his heel and began heading for the stairs. “Nope, screw that hallway! No!”

Despite the soreness in his knees, a smile was forming on Rocket’s face as he stepped down and snagged his crystal. The building was turning out to be far more interesting than some dusty, old hovel! “This is gonna be good.” Walking away from the slab after Quill, he turned to watch the stone slab slowly raise back up into the ceiling as if it had never moved. “Oh....yeah.”


End file.
